Jane had been at her mother’s condo. She’d flown in the day before, just as she was flying in now, but that time she’d been returning from Brazil.
She’d climbed into the limo her mother had sent and traveled past the Pentagon. A single day later she might have been one of the people who’d stopped on the bridge, disturbed by the seriously low-flying jet.
Where had Bobby been on that fateful morning in September? Wherever he was, she had no doubt he’d hopped the first transport to Afghanistan.
Where was he now?
Jane sighed. What was it about D.C. that made her nostalgic, nervous and just a little bit sad?
Oh, yeah. Her mother.
Jane glanced out the window as the plane taxied toward a waiting limousine. Lucky grumbled from her window seat.
“Wait until you meet her,” Jane murmured. “Then we can really have a discussion.”
“Doctor?” Colonel Delray exited the cockpit, where he’d hidden for the entire trip. His dark eyes skimmed her bruised face. “Let me talk to her first.”
“Be my guest.”
With a nod of approval, Delray headed for the door, which seemed to open miraculously at an imperious flick of his hand. He glanced outside and cringed.
“Let me guess,” Jane said. “She’s on her way up.”
The colonel’s rueful shrug revealed he’d dealt with the senator before. Jane braced herself for the whirlwind that was Raeanne Harker.
“Jane,” the senator snapped the instant she set foot in the cabin. “We need to do some damage control.”
Though Raeanne Harker stood just over five feet two inches, she exuded the confidence of a much larger woman. Slim and patrician, blond, of course, she was beautiful, smart, rich and powerful. Raeanne wouldn’t settle for anything less.
Which might be one of the reasons Jane’s refusal to fall into line drove her batty.
“Too late, mother dearest.”
Raeanne frowned. “I’ve told you not to call me that.”
“You’ve told me a lot of things. I rarely listen.”
Jane’s mother looked at her for the first time, and her heavily lashed, violet eyes widened. She muttered an expletive that would have been bleeped on every major television news show. When Raeanne got angry, she could win a cursing contest with any dockworker in America.
That she was rarely able to indulge only seemed to make her cursing, when she did it, more profound. In truth, Raeanne’s trash mouth was one of the few things Jane liked about her. When she swore, she seemed almost human.
“Dammit, Delray! What the hell is this?”
Raeanne stalked over to Jane and went on tiptoe to take a good look at her black-and-blue face.
Delray motioned to the attendant. The man quietly shut the outer door, then slid into the cockpit.
“I thought I was your daughter.” Jane turned away.
Her mother grabbed her elbow and yanked Jane back. Lucky growled, a rumble that rippled along Jane’s spine like nails across a chalkboard. Not Lucky’s drug-dealer snarl, but close.
Raeanne glanced toward the dog and cursed again. “What’s that?”
Jane pointed to herself. “Daughter.” Then to Lucky. “Dog. Repeat after me.”
“Don’t be a smart-ass, Jane. You can’t go out in public with your face so beat up. What were you thinking?”
Jane couldn’t help it. She laughed.
While the senator might curse like the Little General, there the comparison ended. Her mother didn’t slap her around to make her shut up. What a great mom.
“The guy who did this didn’t care how bad I’d look in the morning since he planned on burying me in a shallow Mexican grave. I’m sorry it’s going to inconvenience you on the evening news, but I didn’t want to come here. Your toady insisted.”
The colonel’s eyes narrowed at being referred to as a toady, but he didn’t say a word, which only proved he was exactly that.
“Suite at the Jefferson,” her mother said, naming the newest hotel for the elite, located just a few blocks from the White House. “Have the plastic surgeon meet us there.”
“Mother, I do not need a plastic surgeon.”
“What do you know about it?”
“I’m a doctor!” Jane shouted.
The plane went silent.
Shouting at her mother never did any good. Jane had learned that while still a teenager.
Taking a deep breath, she tried again. “There’s nothing broken. The bruises will fade. I want to get back to Mexico and do my job.”
“Like hell,” Raeanne muttered.
“Why did you insist I be brought here? And why did you tell—” Jane glanced at the colonel “—them that I was kidnapped?”
“You were.”
“Not until after Bobby showed up.”
“Bobby?”
“Captain Luchetti,” the colonel interjected. “One of my best.”
Raeanne gave a sharp nod. Of course they’d sent the best. Otherwise they would have answered to her.
“There was a threat. How was I supposed to know they called before they did the deed?”
Jane frowned. There was something off about that logic. But she wasn’t quite sure what.
“What, exactly, did they say?”
“That you had been kidnapped.”
“Then why were they trying to kill me?”
Her mother looked away. “How am I supposed to know what sets off a Mexican thug? I’m just happy you’re here and it’s over.”
“It’s not over if someone still wants me dead.”
“Let Delray deal with that.”
Her mother’s answer to everything. Delegate.
“If you had a cell phone,” Raeanne continued, “I could have called and checked on you.”
“I hate cell phones,” Jane muttered. Mainly because her mother was always calling her on them.
“Enter the modern world, Jane. Everyone has a cell phone.”
To Jane that merely meant everyone needed their heads examined.
“Let’s get you to the hotel.”
Raeanne began to walk toward the entrance and bam, the attendant reappeared and opened the door. Must be nice to live on Fantasy Island.
“Mother, I have a job. People who need me.”
“I need you. Can’t you spend a few days with your mother? At least until your face heals. At least until we figure out what’s going on.”
Jane hesitated. She wanted to go back to Mexico, not only because she liked it—or at least she had until the whole Enrique-trying-to-kill-her incident—but Bobby was there. Maybe she’d run into him again in the jungle.
The stupidity of that hope made her snort derisively, earning an admonishing glare from her mother.
“It would be foolish to return to Quintana Roo when we don’t know who’s trying to kill you,” the colonel added.
He had a point. Nevertheless…
“I can’t stay here indefinitely.”
“Of course not,” Raeanne wheedled. “A few days. You can relax. Get a pedicure, some highlights.”
Jane resisted the urge to roll her eyes. As if a salon session would make everything better.
Then again, it couldn’t hurt.
“All right,” she allowed. “A few days.”
Raeanne graced Jane with a rare smile. After all, she was getting her way.
“You take the limo, Jane. Colonel. I’ll take a cab back to the Hill.”
“You aren’t going with me?” Jane asked, surprised.
“It’s the middle of the day. Why on earth would I go with you?”
Jane sighed. Why should her near-death experience change anything?
“Let’s go, Lucky.”
“That thing is not going to the Jefferson.” Raeanne stood at the top of the gangway staring at the dog with an expression of such disgust Jane feared she might pop a wrinkle.
“That thing is Lucky and she goes where I go.” Jane gazed first at her mother, then at the colonel. “Nonnego
tiable. She’s saved my life more than anyone else ever has.”
“I doubt the concierge at the Jefferson will be impressed.”
“People bring their yappy dogs there all the time. I’m sure Paris Hilton lets her Chihuahua sleep right on the bed.”
Although she doubted Paris stayed at the Jefferson; she’d stay at a Hilton, wouldn’t she? But that was beside the point.
“Maybe if I dress Lucky in a…dress, they’ll allow her to come in.”
“God, no,” Raeanne muttered. “That would be too frightening.”
“Make it happen, Mother.” Jane scooted past her, then down the steps and into the limo.
By the time they reached the Jefferson everything was arranged. Though Jane sneered at her mother’s imperious manner, her prima donna expectations, they did make life so much simpler.
Jane was hustled through the back entrance like a celebrity. Why was it that whenever she walked through an industrial kitchen she thought of Bobby Kennedy?
Uneasy, Jane glanced around the shiny chrome showplace. But no one lurked in the shadows with a gun. They were all too busy preparing for the lunch rush.
The colonel ushered her into an unassuming elevator tucked into a hallway behind the walk-in freezers.
“The penthouse?” Jane murmured, as he used a security key to access the top floor.
“Has the entire floor to itself and an elevator all its own. Easiest place to defend.”
“Defend from what?”
The door slid open, and Jane stepped into the most beautiful suite with the most beautiful view she’d ever seen. Fresh flowers graced glass tables, bottles with liquor in every shade of brown—caramel, amber, topaz—lined a cherry-wood bar backed with mirrors.
Enchanted, Jane walked across the marble foyer, to stand at a bank of windows on the other side. The city of Washington, D.C., spread out before her like a banquet. She’d never much cared for the place, but when observed from this far up, Jane had to admit it was lovely.
When she turned around, Lucky had already climbed onto a couch the shade of eggshells and fallen asleep. The elevator doors began to close, and Delray lifted a hand in goodbye without ever answering her question.
Jane showered and tied the thick white hotel robe around her waist, then ordered room service. She had a pedicure and a massage, before a maid dropped off new clothes.
It was only when she tried to take Lucky for a walk and discovered the guard in the elevator waiting to do the job for her, that Jane realized she was as much of a prisoner now as she’d been in the hut with the Little General.
GETTING OUT OF MEXICO proved more difficult than Bobby had thought. Escobar was indeed after him, and the man wasn’t a fool. Before Bobby had walked a hundred yards from the village, he heard an outcry, and he was on the run.
He probably should have killed the guy he’d questioned, but the man had done nothing but follow orders. Bobby had a hard time shooting people for doing the same thing he did, even if they were on the other side.
Bobby escaped, or at least he made them think that he had, then he circled back, listened to their conversation, even deciphered some of it.
Half wait here, half head to Puerto. Kill the American soldier.
Bobby stifled a curse. He was supposed to be extracted from Puerto tomorrow. Now what?
He improvised, something he’d been good at even before Delta training, making a beeline through the jungle. Sleeping little, eating less, he reached the Gulf coast in three days, leaving Escobar’s men waiting for him on the wrong side of the country.
From there it was a simple matter to call for a pickup. He could have phoned the colonel, told him what he’d learned, but the idea made Bobby nervous.
Someone in Washington was involved in the attempt on Jane’s life, he was certain of it. Knowing Washington, that someone was tapping every phone they could find. Better to go there himself, brief his boss, then find Jane.
That he was rationalizing wasn’t lost on Bobby. He wanted to see her. Period.
Though he tried not to analyze his behavior, he couldn’t help it. He had far too much time to think.
Lust wasn’t anything new to him, but lusting for an assignment was. He had to conclude he was on the rebound.
Jane had wanted him, and Bobby hadn’t realized how much he needed to be wanted. He shouldn’t have slept with her, and now that he had, he should let her go.
Only thing was, he couldn’t do it.
Bobby reached D.C. four days after Jane should have. He phoned the colonel and was instructed to head to the Pentagon. There the two men commandeered a conference room, and Bobby told his superior everything. Or almost.
“A message,” the colonel murmured. “To the senator. I’ll have to talk to her. Again.”
“In the meantime—” Bobby stood, anxious to get to Jane “—I’ll protect Dr. Harker.”
“Unnecessary.” The colonel waved his hand as if Bobby were a pesky bug. “She’s being well protected.”
“But—”
The colonel lifted a brow. “But, what?”
“I believe I can protect her the best, sir.”
“You always do.”
“I’d like to at least talk to her.”
“No.”
Bobby blinked. “What?”
“You’ve taken SERE training. You know that kidnapping victims can attach to their rescuers as well as their kidnappers. It’s better if Dr. Harker never sees you again.”
Was that what had happened between him and Jane? Nothing more than a case of rescuer worship? Could be. Made as much sense as anything else. Nevertheless, he wasn’t going be able to sleep until he made sure she was okay.
“Your talents are better utilized elsewhere,” the colonel continued. “I’ll see what I can come up with for you.”
“Elsewhere” meant another sweaty country. Bobby wasn’t in the mood.
Besides, he’d been committing too many minor screwups lately. He could only blame his divided mind—he loved Marlie; he lusted after Jane. So far he’d been lucky that no one had died because he was distracted. He couldn’t count on that being the case forever.
If one of his men were having the same trouble, he’d insist they take a break, recharge, relax. Get their priorities straight. Which wasn’t a bad idea.
“I’m due for a leave, Colonel.”
“You always are, yet you never take it.”
“I’d like to now, sir.”
“Fine. Dismissed.”
Bobby hustled himself out of the Pentagon before Delray could change his mind. Then he stood outside trying to figure out where they might have hidden Jane.
The last time he’d had a puzzle like this to unravel had been during the final phase of his operator training for Delta. What was called the culmination exercise.
He’d been brought to Washington, ensconced in a hotel room, then handed a folder with money and instructions for a task—find out how a man had come into the country and if he was still around.
Oh, and while he did this, the FBI was on his tail, with orders to detain, then question him.
Bobby had excelled at that test. He would do no less with this one.
A quick trip to the airport. A short discussion with an airline mechanic, who remembered a limo, a private plane and a very ugly dog, led Bobby to the limo company, and from there it was a short jaunt to the Jefferson Hotel—where he met a brick wall by the name of Serge.
“We do not give out the names of our guests.” Serge’s French accent was so pronounced, Bobby ground his teeth in annoyance. He’d bet money the man had been raised just south of Cleveland.
“How about this?” Bobby leaned in close and lowered his voice. “I tell you who I think is here, and you tell me if I’m right.”
Serge sniffed. “No.”
“Tall, blond woman. Ugly one-eyed dog.”
Serge was good. He continued to stare at Bobby without a flicker of a single eyelash.
Bobby frowned. Was the man wea
ring mascara?
“Fine.”
Bobby strolled toward the bar. She’d have to walk the dog sometime.
Except she didn’t.
Had the limo driver lied to him? What purpose could he have? Maybe the colonel had only pretended to take Jane here, then commandeered another car and taken her somewhere else. It was what Bobby would have done.
He was just about to start questioning the bellmen, when a low woof, followed by grumbles, drifted from the kitchen. Bobby pushed through the door. At the sight of him, Lucky began her dance of joy.
The dog walker, a muscle-bound no-neck in an expensive suit, frowned at Bobby, then reached for his weapon. Bobby lifted his hands. “Relax, pal, I’m Luchetti.”
“Step away from the dog.”
Bobby glanced down. Lucky was licking his leg. He inched out of her reach.
“Where’s Dr. Harker?” he asked.
“I don’t know who you are,” the man said, “but you better back off before I take out your kneecap.”
“Luchetti, Captain Robert. I brought the doctor out of Mexico.”
The man merely stared at him impassively.
“The dog obviously knows me.” Lucky strained at the end of the leash, panting with love. “Just tell Dr. Harker I’m here.”
“I don’t know who you’re talking about. This is my dog. You must have confused the two.”
Bobby snorted. “Right. There are so many that look like Lucky.”
Lucky woofed once at the sound of her name.
Behind him, the kitchen door opened. Bobby knew Security was there even before they grabbed his arms and escorted him out of the hotel.
He let them. Standing on the street, he leaned back and stared up, up, up the side of the building.
The only access to that part of the kitchen had been through an elevator positioned in the hall behind some walk-in refrigerators. Bobby had no doubt it went straight to the penthouse.
Which was exactly where he was headed once darkness fell.
CHAPTER TEN
BOBBY HAD TO WAIT UNTIL after 11:00 p.m. before the lights went off upstairs. He didn’t intend to rappel down the side of the building, land on the balcony and stroll into someone’s cocktail party.
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